Waking Up Dead
by Azorella
Summary: Sookie has become a vampire.. and she's not happy about it. Not happy at all.
1. Sookie Rising

Waking up Dead

A/N: I don't own the rights to Sookie Stackhouse. I don't know where this story stands with the original series. Set sometime after the Nevada takeover. It will be dark. Eric/Sookie.

Summary: Unwilling. That's how Sookie Stackhouse would have to describe her feelings in becoming one of the undead. Unsure of who her maker is, and even more uncertain of how she came to be buried six feet under in the middle of the forest, she is now charged with the task of learning the ropes of vampirism.

Chapter One: Sookie Rising

Sookie knew something was off before she even opened her eyes. Keeping them decisively shut, she ignored the waggling thought in the back of her mind that something was _VERY_ wrong. She licked her chapped lips, and raised a hand to rub at her grimy eyes. On her hand's ascent, it met the resistance of something hard. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she stared in alarm at the blackness that pressed in on her from all sides. Lying on her back in a small enclosed space, panic was now at the very forefront of her mind.

"Oh my God!" Sookie cried aloud, "Oh my God!"

She panted, her hands scrabbling to find a break in the hard wood. There was none. Disoriented and terrified, an inhuman scream tore itself from Sookie's throat. Tears streamed from her eyes, trekking sideways down her cheeks to rest in her hair.

"Ok. Ok. Ok, Sookie," She mumbled to herself, "Get it together, girl."

But she couldn't get it together. Her mind was racing, her anxiety soaring, her heart poun--. She froze. A feeling of dread washed over her, and she stopped her desperate struggle with the wooden top. She reached up slowly to touch her cheek. When she brought her hand away, and even through the pitch black interior of the coffin's wooden confines, she could see blood on her finger tips. Her heart would never beat again. Numbness flowed through her body then, and a hoarse cry ripped its way from her throat.

"No! Not me! Oh my lord, not me!"

Another ragged scream, and with her newfound inhuman strength she punched a hole through the coffin's wooden top. The wood cracked and splintered, falling down in chunks upon her face and hair. Dirt began filling her grave as she tore more and more wood away from the surface of the coffin. She began to pull herself up, burrowing her way through the muddy dirt. Up, up, up towards the sky, towards the moon and the stars.

She broke the surface just then, a cool gust of air lightly ruffling her blonde tangles. Sobbing, her face stained with blood, she pulled the rest of her body free from the tomb. It was dark, but not so dark that she couldn't see clearly. She gazed around her hollowly, dimly noticing that the trees and shrubs seemed enhanced, colors brighter and more vibrant. Right then she didn't care. She wouldn't care about anything anymore. She couldn't. Because she was dead. Gasping, she crawled away from her grave and huddled at the base of a large oak tree.

She looked down at her hands, and watched in amazement as a splinter worked its way out of her dirty palm. She was healing herself. This was too much. She couldn't handle it. She raised her head, and for the fourth time that night, her blood curdling shriek echoed in the woods around her.

"Ohh," Sookie sobbed.

Her throat burned, her stomach ached, and her eyes felt grainy. She hadn't noticed before, but now she did. She was hungry. Not for a cheeseburger, either. Bloodlust took over her body in that second, her fangs protracting from her gums. She winced as they drew blood from her lower lip, but ignored it. She would heal. Inhaling deeply, the aroma of moss and dirt invaded her nostrils. The instinct to hunt took over. She stood, taking a tentative step forward. Her undead body moved faster than she could have ever imagined as a human.

She scanned the area around her, searching for her first victim. Her nostrils flared, and she caught the scent of something warm and moist. She took off through the trees, flitting easily; avoiding upturned roots and sharp rocks as she urgently tracked the source of the moistness. She flew through the forest feeling as though she had been running forever, though it had only been mere minutes. She couldn't make sense of what was going on, her head was like a pit of snarling snakes. She paused then, trying to get her bearings straight. She was confused, her head in a fog. She was hungry. So hungry. She sampled the night's air tentatively, trying desperately to pick up the trail she had lost. It was no use. The animal had moved out of her sensory depth.

With the bloodlust now at the back of her mind, Sookie moved wearily to the edge of the clearing, and sank down to the forest floor, once again succumbing to tears. Full of loathing and self pity, she neither heard nor smelled the other vampire until it was right behind her.

"_Sookie_?"

Her eyes shot open, her body instantly going into fight mode. She whirled to face her attacker; fangs still out, hissing viciously.

A man stood in front her now. A man she knew. Bill.

He stood in front of her, his arms spread out before him. Eyes wide and staring, he gaped at her wordlessly. Sookie hissed again, sinking into a crouch as she began to back away slowly.

"Sookie! Sweetheart, what's happened to you?" Bill asked, his voice sharp.

He stepped towards her, and she could no longer control herself, the instinct to defend herself was too great. She grabbed the nearest weapon available to her. A tree. She ripped the twelve foot baby oak out of the earth, its roots dangling, and threw it with all of her might at her former lover. His eyes widened in shock, and he let out a howl of pain as the oak hit him dead on, knocking him to the ground. She let out a final warning growl and back pedaled, taking off through the trees.

As she ran away, her sensitive hearing picked up the sound of Bill throwing the tree away from himself. She paused, briefly, wondering if he would come after her. She almost turned, to go back and finish the job. Bill was much older than her, she knew she wouldn't win.

Sookie shook her head, feeling as though her brain was sloshing around in her skull. She was suddenly horrified; she didn't want to murder Bill! She had no idea what had just come over her.

"Yes. Yes she's here. Out in the woods between our houses."

Sookie's ears pricked up. Bill was making a phone call to someone. She listened intently. It made her feel better to know that she was close to home.

"…one of us." Bill was saying, "Eric, she's strong. Really strong, and completely primal. STRONG. She threw a tree at me. Yes. Yes…"

Sookie didn't wait to hear the rest the conversation. She began running again, her sense of direction refreshed. She reached the graveyard in minutes, and made her way down its length towards her house.

Her home. It was finally in her sights and Sookie heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, something familiar. She sprinted the last few yards to the door of her back porch and patted the stained pockets of her black waitress pants. No key. With a muffled cry of frustration Sookie pounded her fists on the back door, and was surprised when it came splintering off of its frame. She carelessly pushed it aside, eager to be inside.

The kitchen looked the same. Clean and tidy. She stood uncertainly in its dim light, unsure of what to do next. She inhaled deeply, and her eyes dilated. The scent of her roommate lingered in the air. She bit down, drawing more blood from her bottom lip. She briefly wondered when she would get used to her new fangs. She stalked quietly from room to room, eagerly looking for Amelia. She was nowhere to be found.

Bloody tears flowed from her eyes. Her head ached. She felt as though she hadn't slept nearly enough. She slowly made her way to her bedroom, and sat on the floor against her bed. Staring down at her hands, she saw that they were filthy from her plight with the coffin. She wearily forced herself back to her feet, and made her way over to the small bathroom adjoining her bedroom.

She didn't even bother to peel the ragged remains of her Merlotte's uniform off her cold body. She turned the shower on, not caring about the temperature, and got in fully clothed. As she stood under the spray of the shower, she gasped, unable to comprehend what had happened to her.

Dawn was coming, and with that bitter thought in mind she sank down to the shower floor huddling beneath the spray as shock and exhaustion got the best of her. She closed her eyes, memories and thoughts of a previous life dancing across her eyelids. She lost time, and had no idea how long she had been sitting like that when a cold voice spoke to her.

"Lover," he said.

Her eyes opened sluggishly, but her body reacted to his voice immediately. A wave of intense lust shot through her body and her fangs protracted painfully from her gums. She shot out her position and spun to face him, going on the defensive. Eric. She stared at him, trying to force her body to relax. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew this, but she was wary all the same.

"Sookie," he said gently.

She noticed he didn't move any closer to her, but he was blocking the doorway of the bathroom, staring at her. Waiting for her to say something. She swallowed, blinking wearily. She was drained, feeling for the entire world like she was one of those bobble head dolls.

"If I go to a tanning bed, will I fry?" She asked with a lisp.

Eric laughed, and moved forward into the tiny bathroom, unblocking the exit. Her eyes darted to the now opened doorway, and then back to him again. He was watching her carefully.

"Sookie, come here." He ordered, his hand extended. "Have you fed yet? You need to eat something."

She shrank back away from his hand, and shook her head.

"My Sookie," he whispered, "Come to me. Yield to me."

He started to take another step forward, but she darted out from beneath the shower's cold spray. She underestimated the distance to the doorway and the prowess of the older vampire. He had her pinned against the wall in less than ten seconds, her hands above her head. His body pressed against hers, and she moaned involuntarily. Eric's fangs were showing, and he was grinning toothily down at her. She was too tired to think about fighting back, her survival instincts evaporating in an instant and her lust reemerging with a vengeance.

She let out a low growl and pressed her body against Eric's hardness. Normally, the big Viking would have seized the opportunity to ravage her with an over zealousness that only he could possess, but he stepped back now, and carefully held her at an arm's length keeping them apart those crucial few inches. She wiggled briefly, trying to get closer to him, but his hold remained firm on her arms.

"Now, now. There will be plenty of time for that later, my Sookie," Eric said, the heat in his eyes betraying his thoughts. "The dawn is coming, and you have not slept the full three days."

His hand trailed down her arm to rest on her face, touching the sensitive skin below her eyes.

"My Sookie," he whispered. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

She swallowed, willing herself to calm her excited body. Her eyes slid shut on their own accord, for a brief moment. She had the feeling of being pulled underneath the surface of the ocean, and her eyes snapped back open, shocked. She gazed blearily up at the Viking, meeting his amused blue eyes. She smiled weakly, and then she lost more time.

The next time she awoke, she was in a car, her head resting on Eric's lap.

"Where are we going?" her voice croaked.

He looked down at her in surprise, and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face.

"You shouldn't have woken up again." He stated, calmly. "We're going to my house."

Eric's house, she wondered.

And then she died.

TBC…

A/N: Constructive criticism appreciated.


	2. Unbloodthirsty

A/N: I don't own the rights to Sookie Stackhouse. I don't know where this story stands with the original series. Set sometime after the Nevada takeover. It will be dark. Eric/Sookie.

Chapter Two: Unbloodthirsty

There was a heavy weight pressing on her body, the feeling of being too far below the surface of the ocean. No breath was necessary, for she no longer required oxygen. She floated, immobile, in the vast emptiness that was daytime sleep. Far away from her, a pale light was beginning to grow. Expanding and contracting, flowing together and then far away, Sookie felt herself drawn to it. More aware of herself now, she began to float towards the light. Reaching out…

She returned to consciousness.

Her head felt as if it was made of liquid cement and she lay very still, praying that she had dreamed the whole thing up. Her lips parted involuntarily, and she allowed herself to slowly breathe out. There was pressure on her leg, and something was gently touching her bare stomach. She didn't want to open her eyes yet. She wasn't ready to face the truth.

"Sookie, look at me." Eric's voice commanded. "I know you're awake. You've begun breathing."

She opened her eyes. Blinked. Once. Twice. She inhaled shakily, and turned her head groggily to look at the Viking. She blinked again, willing her head to stop aching. His handsome face was only inches from her own, and she started. His eyes were true blue, his hair the color of straw. He was even more beautiful to her now, than when she was a human. Eric Northman was truly a sight to behold.

"Who is your maker?" he asked, his voice quite neutral. He was examining her face intently, and when he suddenly sat up she was startled. He glanced down at her, his eyes unreadable. He reached across her for the TruBlood that rest upon the nightstand. Without waiting for her reply, he popped the top off and offered it to her.

"Drink." he said.

The delicious scent of blood made her eyes dilate, and like a surge of lust flowing through her body, she wanted it. _Needed_ it. She reached out for the bottle eagerly, but paused when her fingers were less than a centimeter away. She furrowed her eyebrows as reality crashed in on her from all sides. She ducked under Eric's arm in a flash, darted off the bed and backed into the farthest corner of the large room... away from the blood.

"No! No, I won't drink that.. that.. shit" Sookie cried shrilly.

Eric looked at her in astonishment.

"Would you prefer a human? I can arrange that. I just thought that you would have.." he started, confused.

"No!" she said, her voice going up another octave. "No. no. Just… no."

He set the opened bottle down on the nightstand, and stood.

"Sookie, you are going to have to eat sometime."

She could feel her eyes beginning to well up with tears, and she shook her head. "My head hurts. I'm confused."

"If you were to eat, that would go away."

He came closer, watching her. Making sure that she saw his every movement. When he was right in front of her he held out his hand. She took it tentatively, watching him with suspicion. A feeling of calmness washed over her, and she looked up at him in surprise. _So, the blood bond had not been broken,_ she thought. Allowing herself to be folded into his arms, she relished in the comfort that it brought her.

"Come lay with me," Eric said gently.

Her eyes darted to the blood on the nightstand, and back up to his face. He was still watching her. She looked at him pointedly. He sighed at her and then released his hold on her waist, walking briskly around the bed to remove the TruBlood from her presence. A wave of anxiety washed over her with each step he took away from her. On his way back around, he walked more slowly, his eyes sly.

He held out the bottle to her, offering it to her once more, and she teetered dangerously for one precarious moment. To her shock, she felt a low rumbling in the back of her throat and was alarmed to note that it was the makings of a growl. Eric raised one delicate eyebrow at her, and smiled sweetly before exiting the room with the offending beverage.

She stood absolutely still, afraid to move. Paranoid. Almost as if she expected the rosewood bureau that lay to her right would suddenly breathe life and attack her. She held her breath, waiting for the older vampire to return. Counting the seconds. The room in which she had laid last night was elegant, but surprisingly simple for someone as extravagant as Eric Northman. The walls were a rich crème color, a red-orange trim setting the rosewood furniture off nicely. The large king sized bed was decorated with a quilt that she fell in love with immediately. Cream and white with red roses and green ivory.

Eric came back into the room just then. He stared at the bed, frowning. Eying her in the same spot where he had left her, the corner of his mouth went down. He was in front of her in a second. Hands on either side of her face, examining her.

"Hi," she said, weakly. "How are you today.. or rather, tonight?"

He looked surprised for a minute, but then the corner of his mouth went back up and he shot her a wry grin.

"Quite well, all things considered," he said, his voice like silk. "And how is my Sookie? Come lay with me."

Without warning, he reached down and grabbed her around the knees, launching her across the room and onto the bed. She landed with a soft 'oof!' and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You and those doe eyes," he sighed.

He came to lay beside her, seriousness in his expression. She sighed, and before he could even ask she launched into her account of how things had happened.

"I don't remember, Eric."

"Well, what's the last thing you _do _remember?_"_

Sookie contemplated that for a moment. Thinking hard, she tried to remember what the last thing she had been doing before she woke up in that godforsaken coffin. She couldn't. It simply wasn't there. She knew faces and names, but she had no memory of her actions.

"I guess the last thing I remember is being at work," she said slowly, "Although I'm not sure if I'm remembering that because I woke up in my uniform, or because I was actually at work before it happened."

Eric opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.

"I guess I could have been on my way into work too," she said, her voice thoughtful.

Eric's brow furrowed. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. Sookie watched him anxiously, wondering what he was thinking about.

"Eric?" she asked, hesitant.

He ignored her, gently running his tongue along his bottom lip. Waves of irritation and lust washed over her, and he looked up at her, his smile coy.

"Just checking, lover."

"Checking what?" she asked, suspicious.

"You." He said simply.

Anger washed over her then. She didn't like being toyed with.

"Stop talking in riddles, Eric Northman!" she snarled, her fangs protracting.

He grinned at her, and she bit down on her lip again, drawing blood. His lips were on hers in a second, sucking the cut. As quick as he had come, he was gone again. Holding her away from him as lust took over her body.

"As much as I want to fuck you silly, you delicious woman, you," he said, his fangs out. "We need to talk first."

She stopped struggling, and he loosened his grip on her upper arms.

"Well, clearly your maker is either extremely irresponsible or very young," Eric began.

Sookie was stunned. So caught up in the dilemma of becoming a vampire, she hadn't even _thought_ about the fact that someone had _made_ her. She was inextricably bound to someone. Someone she didn't know. Someone that might have less than ideal intentions. _Someone who had complete and utter control over her. _

"Are you even listening to me?" Eric snapped at her.

She blinked and shook her head. Eric was scowling at her, obviously put out that she wasn't hanging onto his every word.

"Always gotta be number one," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I am number one," he said, and continued without a hitch. "You're a newborn, Sookie, do you know what that entails?"

She shook head, to let him know that he now had her undivided attention.

"You're going to need a lot of blood at first," he started, but frowned. "Actually, I've never seen a newborn refuse blood before. Hanging onto your humanity by your pretty little nails isn't going to last long, you know."

She scowled at him and opened her mouth to reply that she hadn't chosen this, but he plowed on, ignoring her.

"You're also going to have mood swings, and in case you haven't noticed yet, your senses are going to keep improving until they're fully developed at a year of age."

"My visions going to get even better?" she asked, surprised.

He nodded at her, and smiled.

"Did you really throw a tree at Compton?" he asked brightly, doing a three sixty.

She looked at him in surprise, and opened her mouth to reply negatively when the most curious thing happened. Like a whisper on the wind, a voice was calling out to her. She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows going up.

"Sookie?" Eric asked, reaching out for her.

She was on her feet then. Bewilderment and panic bubbled to the surface and she squeaked involuntarily. The voice was getting louder, more persistent, and she felt compelled to answer it.

"Oh," she said, understanding. _"Oh,"_

Eric was on his feet now, coming around the side of the bed. He reached out for her again, but she dodged his grasp as her feet began moving of their own accord to the door of the bedroom.

"My maker is calling," she whispered hoarsely.

He stopped, and looked down at her.

"I have to go," she said, babbling. "I don't want to go. What do I do?"

Eric hissed, anger radiating off of him in waves. He moved to the nightstand beside the bed so quickly that even to her new vampire eyes she almost missed it. When he returned to her, he was pushing her cell phone into her hand.

"You must obey. There's nothing you can do to avoid it. If you don't go to him, he will come for you, eventually," Eric said, "I will follow you, just in case."

She nodded her assent to him, and continued to the door. She never made it. Her surroundings began to blur and she shrieked, frightened. The walls began to melt and morph together, the furniture rippling and changing. There was a loud roaring noise in her ears, not unlike the sound of a waterfall. She fell to her knees in the dark forest where she had awoken. A pair of dark brown boots invading her vision, and she looked up.

Her maker stood before her.

"Do you like my little gift? You just weren't coming fast enough." His voice was like flint.

"You," she said weakly, staring at him in disbelief.

He grinned and drew back his foot, aiming his kick squarely into her face. She felt her nose break, blood gushing onto the front of Eric's t-shirt as she lay on her back in the middle of the forest.

"You will address me as Master," His gravelly voice said.

"Yes, Master," she said, despair flowing over her in waves.

"This will not take long, I'm sure the Viking is tracking you as we speak," He sneered.

Her nose was healing itself, the bones grinding together uncomfortably. She struggled to get to her feet, but the older vampire put his foot on her chest.

"You will not reveal my identity in any way. You may not even hint to it," He began, "You will not ask questions of me and you will not tell anyone of anything we ever speak of."

He was grinning down at her, his face both evil and sadistic. Sookie could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Gazing up at him with wide eyes, she nodded. He brought his boot down on her chest with a force that would have killed her, had she been human. Howling to the night sky, she felt her ribs crack. Bloody tears streamed down her cheeks in rivulets.

_"You will address me as Master," _he snarled, pulling her close so that she could smell his rancid breath.

"Yess, yes, Master," she gasped, trying to lean back from him.

He released his hold on her shirt, and began to walk away. He turned, as if he had just thought of something.

"Oh, and Sookie?" he said, his eyes glinting in the dark.

"Yes, Master?" she asked, her voice weak.

"You will not drink a drop of blood, not from a human and not from the bottle," he said, his voice laughing at her.

"As your maker, I command you."

And then he was gone.

A/N: Constructive criticism appreciated.


	3. Struggle

Waking Up Dead

A/N: I don't own the rights to Sookie Stackhouse. I don't know where this story stands with the original series. Set sometime after the Nevada takeover. It will be dark. Eric/Sookie.

Chapter Three: Struggle

She breathed in and out slowly.

She no longer needed to perform this act, but found solace in it anyways. Stale air passed through her chapped, dirty lips as she lay on her back in the middle of the dark forest. She stared up into the inky canopy of the tree's leaves as her ribs began to heal, mending together at an unnatural rate as the osteoblasts fused together once more. Sookie could feel a range of emotions washing over her body like a wet silken blanket. Feelings she could no longer quite place as her body continued its journey further and further away from humanity.

_Him. _

_ How. Could. This. Happen._

_No blood? Ever? I need blood to live! Ridiculous.. _

The cell phone was still clenched in her fist, forgotten. It began to cry, its high pitched ring breaking her never ending loop of self pity with a jarring jolt. She stared at the caller id, not recognizing the number and caring even less about who was on the other end of the line. Her fingers curled around its small silver body. She watched as the liquid leaked out of the screen, the phone crushed by her small hand. She threw the broken pieces away from her, and sat up, her ribs protesting only a tiny bit.

_I'm going to kill him. _

_ "_Kill who, dear?" A sweet voice asked.

Sookie snarled, already on her feet, ready to fight. She was amazed at how often she felt his was necessary. It made her laugh, thinking about how often she had chided Bill and Eric on their 'bloodthirsty' ways.

Claudine stood before her, beautiful and willowy in her own stylish way. Sookie's lips parted involuntarily at the sight of her beloved cousin, and fresh tears began to fall from her bloodshot eyes. She forced herself to retract her fangs, and watched as her cousin's face contorted in horror as she saw Sookie cry blood.

"Claudine…" Sookie sobbed, reaching for comfort.

"Sookie.. You, you're a vampire!" exclaimed the fairy. "I didn't know! I felt something three nights ago, but nothing to this…"

She opened her mouth to interrupt the older supe with her sad tale, but at that moment the wind changed. The most delicious scent of lilies and earth filled her nostrils, and her fangs ran down. Claudine's eyes got bigger and bigger, and she began slowly backing away from Sookie, her arms raised.

She prepared to pounce, and Claudine looked at her with a sadness that resonated in the air. A feeling so strong, it made Sookie pause.

"I'm so sorry, Sookie, I've failed you," Claudine said sadly. "The fae can no longer help you."

And then she was gone.

A bit of sense returned to her with the departure of Claudine's intoxicating scent. She sank to her knees, and stayed that way for hours. The despair and self pity did not ebb like she had hoped, but intensified with each passing hour. The raw emotion of feeling as a vampire pulled her under the surface as her hunger began to gnaw at her insides like a wild beast, desperate to get out. The new predator side of her psyche demanded she kill something, anything, for sustenance. She couldn't. Every time she thought about drinking blood, a force compelled her to do the opposite.

It was nearing dawn again, and she hadn't made a decision or any real progress on what to do about her situation. She wanted to die. She wanted to live. She considered meeting the sun, and when she thought she had made up her mind to just DO IT, something strange happened. A warmth that started in the pit of her stomach began to spread, lending her the strength and courage she needed to get through the worst hours of her life. She closed her eyes, and tilted her head back towards the canopy, letting it roll over her in waves.

Eric.

Her eyes snapped open. He was tracking her, she could sense it. She sighed, knowing that the warmth she had experienced was the blood bond with Eric. Reaching out with her mind, she experimentally tugged on the warmth. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears again, her emotional reserves taxed. She clung to the warmth with all of her strength. Willing him to find her, to take her home.

Suddenly he was there, in front of her now. He was touching her face, checking for damage and cursing at her for not answering the phone. His hands were adept, and she began to feel the familiar ache of lust heat her skin. As he was checking her ribs, she watched him. He was worried about her. He thought she was damaged. She was_ not_ damaged. Her resolve strengthened. She wanted to live. She returned to the surface.

Grabbing Eric's wrist, preventing him from poking her further, she looked straight into his eyes, her gaze steady.

"Eric," she said, her voice strong. "I'm fine."

And then her mouth was on his, pushing against him until he was flat on the forest floor. She straddled him and crushed her lips to his, drawing blood, desperate for comfort. They bumped fangs, and Sookie pulled back. His cheeks were flushed, as if he had recently fed, and he looked up at her with an unreadable expression. Sookie smiled at him, comforting. He returned her smile with a small growl, and took the opportunity to take control of the situation by flipping her over so he was on top.

"Lover," he gasped, and pressed into her.

****

She sat at the table across from Pam. They stared at each other. Pam was grinning at her, delighted. Sookie gazed back, hungry and indifferent.

"I thought Eric was playing a joke," she said. "Sookie, a vampire? Ridiculous!"

"Well, here I am," Sookie sighed.

Eric paced around the small kitchen of her grandmother's home. He had been doing this since they had arrived. Around the small table he went, getting more and more agitated with each turn he took.

"So you're telling me," he began angrily. "That you cannot tell me who your maker is. So I cannot kill him?"

Sookie sighed again. This was the fifth time he had asked her.

"He must be very wise," Pam said, "Or very dumb."

Sookie raised an eyebrow. She thought he was very dumb.

"I can't talk about anything we discussed either, I've already tried. It just won't happen."

And it wouldn't. She felt as though she had a million cotton balls stuffed into her mouth when she had first tried to explain to Eric how he had forbid her to drink blood. Eric still didn't know about that. _Fuck. _

Now that she really thought about it. Her hunger was nearly intolerable. She must have said it aloud because Pam stood abruptly, going to the fridge.

"O?" She asked, directing the question at Sookie.

"Um," Sookie said, trying to think of the politest way to decline.

Eric stopped pacing. Pam froze, her hand on the fridge's open door, staring at her in disbelief.

"A newborn has never refused blood," Eric said, his voice dangerous. "You haven't had anything to drink since you've woken."

_Since I've woken._

Sookie stood, unwilling to discuss this any further tonight. She was dirty, tired, and starving. There was only an hour until sunrise, and she wanted nothing more than to take a shower and get into her cubby to die for the day. She told them as much, and marched off to her room. She was gathering her stuff together when she felt Eric enter the room behind her.

"Please, Eric," she begged.

He held up his hand to stop her, and she felt a twinge of annoyance at the gesture. It was something you did to underlings, not to the woman you made love to. He raised an eyebrow at her, no doubt feeling her irritation through the bond.

"Lover, I'm not sure why you won't drink any blood," Eric said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "But I'm going to find out sooner or later."

"I suspect you will," she sighed, "But for right now, I'm going to shower and then go to sleep."

He nodded at her, and sat down on the bed, watching her. Her irritation grew when she saw that he intended to sit right there and wait for her to finish, she stalked the few feet to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, effectively splintering the door frame. She could hear his chuckle from the other side of the now broken door.

The shower was nothing special, even if it did make her feel slightly better. When she finished, she wrapped her hair up in a towel and dressed in a long cotton nightgown. She emerged from the bathroom clean, but still in a foul mood. Eric was no longer sitting on the bed, but across the hall in her old bedroom preparing the cubby hole.

"Are you staying at Bill's?" she asked, with a yawn.

He looked up at her in surprise, his hand reaching out to help her down into the hole.

"Well, no," he said uncertainly. "I sent Pam to Bill's for the evening, and had planned to lay here with you."

"Oh," was all she said, her thoughts becoming more and more muddled.

She reached out and took his hand, allowing him to remove the towel from her head and help her into the hole. He somehow managed to feel her up in the process. Typical Eric. The hole was cramped with the both of them inside, but it was manageable if they both lay on their sides. She inhaled the musky odor of the dark hole, and took in the sweet smell of Eric's shirt. His hand lazily stroked her golden hair, and her eyelids became unbearably heavy.

"My Sookie.." She heard him begin, but then she died.

**

When she awoke next it was dark and she was alone. For the first time since waking vampire, she didn't automatically inhale upon waking. The thought made her sad. She climbed out of the hole and replaced the items on top of the trap door, giving her closet the appearance of normalcy to anyone who didn't know what lay below.

Spying a clock in the corner of her room, she was shocked to see that it was nearing ten pm. She must have been more drained than she had originally thought. Sudden movement from the hallway caught the attention of her sensitive hearing. Sookie's head snapped to the left, and she crouched down where she stood. Pam entered the room, a Trublood in her hand. She looked surprised to see Sookie crouched at the foot of the bed.

Warm, metallic, thick, and sweet. The scent permeated the air around the newborn vampire. Pam was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear her. The bottle of blood was sweating, and she watched as a bead of perspiration made its way down the neck of the bottle, and came to a rest on Pam's thumb. She was drooling; she could feel it on her chest. Pam noticed too, because she held out the bottle for her to take. Sookie stood, not taking her eyes of the bottle. She tried to reach out and take it, but couldn't.

Pam said something in a different language, irritated. Sookie ignored her, willing herself to take the bottle from the older vampire. She let out a growl of frustration, and turned her attention to the woman standing in front her.

"_Get that the fuck away from me," _she hissed, her fangs biting into her lower lip.

Pam glared at her, resolute.

"Eric says to make sure you drink, so I am here to make sure you drink," she said, turning her nose up at her.

"I don't want any!" She shouted, the scent of blood driving her mind wild.

Sookie hissed again, and with a pang, realized how her grandmother would have admonished her for such behavior. She had never seen another vampire hiss or act so primal. She briefly wondered if it was from the lack of blood or because she was a newborn.

"Where is Eric?" She ground out, with great effort.

Pam raised a delicate eyebrow.

"He's taking care of things at Fangtasia. He asked that I be your nursemaid while he is away."

"I'm not thirsty, Pam" Sookie began to back away, towards the bathroom.

"I'm not giving you an option, Sookie. Eric says drink, so you must drink."

She said this so matter of factly that Sookie stared at her in disbelief, a haze of red beginning to coat her vision. She felt moisture on her neck, but ignored it.

"_I am NOT one of Eric's underlings!"_

Pam laughed, a lilting noise that sounded like bells.

"Technically, you are now. Since you are vampire and not human. He is the sheriff of Area Five. You are vampire, and you are in Area Five." She pointed out.

Sookie could see there was no way out of this. She couldn't drink, and Pam wasn't backing down. The predator side of her said fight, but she knew she couldn't win a battle with the older vampire. Quick as lightning, Sookie upturned the bed, breaking the frame in the process. With a snarl, she proceeded to throw the mattress at Pam. She didn't wait for a reaction, and sprinted for the closed window of her old bedroom. Not caring about injury, she jumped through the glass and tumbled gracefully to the lawn that was just a few feet below. She could hear Pam cursing behind her, and took off running towards the graveyard.

She wasn't as fast as she had been on the first day of her awakening. The cuts on her exposed arms and face were healing much slower than they would have if she had been in full health. She slowed her pace once she was halfway through the graveyard, and listened for Pam. Something solid hit the back of her head, and she went down hard onto the muddy grass. Whoever threw the rock came up behind her, turning her over with rough hands.

"_Sookie?"_ A familiar voice asked, incredulous.

TBC…

A/N: My apologies for the length (and any errors) in this chapter. I also apologize for how long it took for me to update. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	4. Gore

Waking Up Dead

A/N: I don't own the rights to Sookie Stackhouse. I don't know where this story stands with the original series. Set sometime after the Nevada takeover. It will be dark. Eric/Sookie.

**This chapter is graphic. You have been warned. **

Chapter Four: Gore

"_Jason?" _Sookie gasped, her head aching.

The grass beneath her was spongy, her elbows dug into the mud as she pulled herself up. She ignored her brother's outstretched hand as she stared up at him, transfixed. His blonde hair was dirty, his face smudged with mud and blood. Gazing past him, she saw the crescent moon.

"Sookie! What.." He began.

But he never finished his sentence.

She rose from the ground, fangs down. Feeling her eyes dilate, she inhaled the musky odor of the were/human/fae combination. Jason, sensing he was in danger, backpedaled. She smiled, and Jason began running. It was useless, however, because she was on him a second. Grabbing his arm roughly, she clawed the back of his head. Skin and hair came out in clumps, sticking underneath her short nails. Dimly, she could hear her brother screaming, but she was no longer present. She jerked the arm that she held, and it came off easily. A stream of delicious crimson liquid poured out of the artery in his detached arm, and she threw it away from her now. Jason was still screaming, louder now, clutching the open wound at his shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing, Sookie!" he howled, tears flowing freely from his eyes.

Sookie stalked forward, not quite there, smiling. She launched herself at him, aiming for the jugular vein. To sink her teeth into the moist artery that lay there. She paused a few inches from his neck, unable to go any farther. She let out a howl of despair, and it echoed in the dark graveyard. She grabbed her brother's other arm, and threw him from her, enraged. His momentum threw his body several feet, but she still hung onto his other arm. She tossed this one away from her as well, and perked her ears up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Her blonde hair was covered in blood, her face, her arms, and her nightgown, saturated with the sticky liquid, and she tried desperately to lick it off her fingers, to no avail. She could feel the approach of Pam coming at her at a rapid pace, and she turned to meet the woman. Pam's eyes were big, bloodlust at the forefront of her mind. Her face was shiny with excitement, and her fangs were down. She paused a few feet from Sookie, staring at the scene before her.

"If you kill him, you will regret it." Pam said, indifferent.

"Get away from me!" Sookie hissed.

"Fine. Eric is coming."

The older vampire was too close to her kill. The blood was rushing to her head, and she reached down to retrieve Jason's left arm. Knowing it wouldn't do anything more than anger the older vampire, she chucked the arm at her. Pam deflected the stray arm and growled, but made no move to come any closer to her. She turned to her brother. Jason stared up at her, his white face a mask of confusion and pain. His eyelashes were fluttering, the light beginning to leave his eyes as he drifted in and out of conciousness.

She could indeed feel Eric coming, he was much closer than he ought to have been. Feeling nothing, she made her decision just as Eric's feet touched the ground. Reaching down, she dug her hands into the rubbery flesh of her brother's upper stomach, digging deep as he howled. She found what she was looking for, the ribcage.

"Sookie-" Eric bellowed, trying to send a range of emotions across the bond with that one single word.

Looking up, she met his blue eyes. She smiled. And then she pulled with all of her strength. A resounding crack filled the air as her brother's body was ripped in two, organs and blood spilling out onto the damp grass. Eric was at her side in a second, eyes blazing with excitement and anger. He grabbed her arm roughly, lifting her off the ground. She kicked him in the place where all men were sensitive, vampire and human alike. He dropped her with a small "Oof!" and she took off running.

"Clean this up," Eric was saying to Pam, as Sookie tried to put as much distance as possible between her and the angry vampire.

He was livid now. She could feel it, and fear fueled her body. Leaving behind the pieces of her brother, her feet took her as far away from the site as possible. She should have known better. Eric was over a thousand years old, and he easily overtook her. Grabbing her around the waist, he tackled her to the ground. She continued to struggle, but he waited right there on top of her holding her in place, waiting for her to tire. It didn't take long. She was very weak.

"Will you behave, or am I going to have to make you behave?"

His voice was cold, any trace of humor long gone. Crimson tears flowed from her eyes freely, and she let out a small whimper at being held down. She was so very hungry. Looking up into Eric's blue eyes, she nodded. He stood, and grabbed her roughly by her upper arms, slinging her over his shoulder in one easy movement. She didn't object to being carried this way. She was too tired.

As they approached the old Stackhouse farmhouse, it occurred to her that Eric was asking her a question.

"Sookie?" he was saying.

"What?" she snapped back, irritable.

"I said," he began, just as cross, "Have you eaten?"

"No," she mumbled, "I think I'll just take a bath and go back to bed."

Eric eased them into her house carefully, as if her weight was nothing. He strode through the kitchen and down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. Once inside, he went straight to the bathroom. None to gently, he dumped her into the bathtub, and got in behind her. She heard the small crunch of skin being broken by fangs, and tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but he had her pinned with her back against his chest. Suddenly, his wrist appeared in front of her, bleeding.

"Drink" he ordered.

"No!" she sputtered, shocked.

"Fine," Eric said, his voice too calm.

He grabbed her blonde hair, and pulled her head all the way back to his chest, so that she was looking at the ceiling. She clamped her lips together, tears still falling from her eyes. His chest was moving, and she realized that he was breathing heavily. The scent of blood must be getting to him, she thought. She was covered in it. Eric forced her mouth open, and roughly replaced the open space with his bleeding wrist. She sobbed harder as the blood dripped down the sides of her face, none of it reaching her mouth.

Eric released her suddenly, and she scrambled to the other side of the tub. Her body ached, her mouth sore from the abuse of trying to open it. The drying blood threatening to make her irrational.

"What is this?" Eric whispered.

He stared at her, and Sookie raised her bloody fingers to her mouth. His intelligent eyes watched as they met resistance right at her open mouth.

"You cannot drink blood," he said, finally.

She nodded.

"Why not?"

She looked at him, willing him to understand.

And suddenly, he did. It was as if a light bulb had gone on in his head. His eyes lit up with excitement, and then dulled again, anger crackling over the bond in small short bursts.

"Your maker," he said, his voice flat.

She didn't respond, just looked at him.

His phone began to ring, and he answered it, still staring at her.

"Speak," he said into the phone, his voice harsh.

Sookie's lips parted, numbness washing over her body and trickling across the bond in rivulets. The events of the night were wiggling at the back of her mind, trying to get her to pay attention to them. The faucet of the tub was digging into her back, and she pressed her shoulder blades back, cracking her spine. She smiled as she felt the relief of her joints rubbing together, and looked up when Eric snapped his phone shut. His blue eyes were unreadable in the fluorescent lighting of the small bathroom, and she reached for him. He stood abruptly, looking down at her with his cold dead eyes.

"I must leave you," he started, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Something has happened. I will come back for you as soon as night has fallen."

He ghosted a kiss along her jaw line, and nipped at her neck, pulling back as she reached for him again.

"Be safe; go to your hidey hole before dawn."

And then he was gone.

"Well, shit," Sookie exclaimed to the open air in front of her.

She climbed out of the tub, blood from her brother's body turning a murky brown on her skin.

_Don't think about it_, she told herself.

She approached the mirror slowly, and stared at her reflection. She saw a young woman, scared and unnaturally pale. Cheeks that were once full and round were now gaunt and sunken. Dark purple circles claimed her eyes, the veins darkening in protest to her Maker's imposed hunger strike.

There was movement in the next room. Someone was in _her_ house. Someone unwelcome.

She hissed, her fangs sliding down. She did not bite her lip this time.

She stalked out of the bathroom, and into the room that used to be her grandmother's. He was there, her Maker. There he was, laying on her bed as if he were entitled to it. She let out a snarl, and he rose up, his nostrils flaring from the scent of blood.

"My child," he rasped. "Killing your own flesh and blood? What _have_ you become?"

"What _you_ have made me," she answered, disgusted.

His smile frightened her, but the feeling of arousal that was coursing across their newly forged connection scared her even more. He sensed her distress, and his smile became wicked. She glanced at the entrance to the room, but he moved so quickly that he blurred even in her new sight. He grasped her by her bruised upper arm, and threw her over his shoulder, landing her on the bed.

He was on top of her, pressing into her in a second. She thrashed her head back and forth, moaning in despair.

"No!" she shouted, her strength gone.

"Quiet and be still!" He hissed, his breath emitting an unpleasant sour scent.

She obeyed, and lay there as he tore her pants off; taking her advantage of the power he had over her. Sookie closed her eyes, unable to believe that this was truly happening to her, and that she was powerless to stop it. He was fumbling with himself, panting and rubbing against her as dried blood flecked off onto her grandmother's quilt. He was leaving marks on her that would bruise, using the act of love to create fear and pain.

"Open your eyes, and say my name," he gasped, "Say it, cunt!"

Sookie rolled her eyes at the cliché, and he slapped her across the face. Blood trickled from her mouth and tears filled her eyes.

"Say it!" He roared.

She swallowed the blood in her mouth, blinking tears away and looked up at her Maker.

"Mickey," she said, her voice quiet.

A/N: Constructive criticism appreciated.


End file.
